


Building a Tower of Furniture

by TrinityEverett



Category: Castle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrinityEverett/pseuds/TrinityEverett
Summary: "It's not a romantic getaway, hell it's not even being billed as two friends enjoying his beach house the way he had the first time he'd invited her. It's a workshop for them. It's what they need, but she can't help but feel her stomach flutter at the thought of going away with him." - A sequel to Suspension of Disbelief.





	Building a Tower of Furniture

**Building a Tower of Furniture**

_**Prompt from Anonymous:** A sequel to Suspension of Disbelief, where they go away from the city and spend time together. Maybe for the first few days they struggle to communicate, argue a lot and sleep in separate rooms but eventually they talk and get to have sexy times._

* * *

He's quiet on the drive.

It probably shouldn't be disconcerting, but it's Castle, the man who makes it his mission to fill any amount of time spent in the car with conversation. Even after the past few weeks, she's not used to it from him.

Not that she blames him; they haven't had much to say to one another lately. There's plenty they _should_ discuss – they both know one talk in his foyer (albeit followed by more than a few hearty kisses) doesn't make everything better – but they haven't yet, tacitly agreeing to shelve the rest until they arrive at their destination.

She'd asked him to go somewhere with her, to get them back on the same page, and this had been his solution; a so-called "partner retreat" in the Hamptons.

It's not a romantic getaway, hell it's not even being billed as two friends enjoying his beach house the way he had the first time he'd invited her.

It's a workshop for them.

It's what they need, but she can't help but feel her stomach flutter at the thought of going away with him.

Beckett twists in her seat, watching the line of his jaw as he concentrates on maneuvering his Mercedes out of downtown traffic. She hadn't argued when he said he was driving; it's actually nice sitting back and letting someone else worry about speed and control for once. And her partner is more than enjoyable to look at as she rides.

"So this house of yours," she starts, breaking their stalemate. "Gigantic?"

The corner of Castle's lips twitches. "It's not that bad. Though I will admit it is just the right size for a truly challenging, enjoyable game of Manhunt."

"Mmm, you want to play Manhunt with me, Castle?" She can't help the way it comes out, the almost-playful, flirtatious drawl. She's fun, she wants to show him she's fun. She'll probably never be uncomplicated, but she can be fun because that's what he brings out in her.

"Well it's an option," he says after a moment, clearing his throat. He reaches out, fiddling with the temperature in the car before resting his elbow on the console between them.

Her hand creeps over, fingertips flirting across his knuckles. He doesn't speak, instead he turns his hand over, pressing their palms together.

"What other options do you have in mind?" she asks.

He swallows hard, his hand tightening around hers. Oh, _oh_. She can't argue with that.

"Well, there's swimming. There's walking on the beach. There's building a tower of furniture and doing trust falls…"

Laughing softly, she taps the back of his hand. "This isn't really a team-building seminar, Castle. No reason to do their exercises."

"Sure it is. We are a team, Beckett, and we've seen our unit cohesion take a hit lately. What else would we do to rebuild our team?"

It's a tease, she thinks. They both know what they want to do to repair unit cohesion.

* * *

"So much, Castle. Hopefully… so much," she drawls anyway, squeezing his hand once more.

The low rumble of his chuckle eases something in her chest. This will be okay. _They_ will be okay.

The rest of the drive is uneventful. She doesn't mind keeping her partner's hand, but after a while he disengages from her, citing their sweaty palms. She can't help but laugh at the way he pats his hand on his jeans, doing the same on hers before leaving her hand where he can take it back later if the need hits him.

He doesn't.

They spend most of the rest of the first day walking on eggshells. What used to feel easy between them seems stilted and awkward, and by the time they retreat to their separate rooms for the night, she sits back against her door and considers the possibility that this was a truly terrible idea.

What if they've mangled their shot?

What if – despite the I love yous they've exchanged – this is how they're destined to be? Awkward, not-quite lovers, sort-of friends who can't even figure out how to have a conversation with each other that doesn't revolve around case work.

What if they really don't know how to be anything but partners?

* * *

Castle seems to be in better spirits the next day, smiling from the counter as he whisks what she has to assume are eggs for omelets when she pads into the kitchen.

"Morning. How'd you sleep?" He slows the whisk, leaving it sliding in the bowl in his haste to beat her to the coffee maker.

"Good, thanks." Truthfully, she feels like she barely slept. She sat up most of the night, eyes on the ceiling as she pondered the possible outcomes of this trip, the worst-case scenarios.

Castle looks over as she hides a yawn behind her hand, no doubt holding his tongue at her apparent tiredness.

"Surprised you didn't sleep later."

"Mmm, habit, I guess. Body's just used to waking up earlier."

He nods, stirring her syrup into her coffee with practiced ease.

"What about you?" Kate asks, touching his arm. "I figured you would still be asleep, too."

He chuckles. "You'll come to find out I'm a surprisingly early riser, Detective."

Their fingers brush as he hands her the mug, and innocent as the touch may be, her cheeks still heat up.

She loves this man and she's been reduced to blushing like a fourteen year old with a crush.

"Well, don't rise too early, Castle." She purses her lips, lifting her eyes to his. He smirks at her innuendo.

"Oh, don't worry, Beckett. I have plenty of stamina… for staying awake, of course."

She coughs, sipping her coffee. "Duly noted."

Her partner steps closer, only to seemingly think better of it and move back to the counter.

"Can I interest you in some eggs?"

Her stomach drops. So much for making progress toward being 'them' again.

"Please. You're really going all-out, Castle."

She follows him after a moment, leaning on her elbows across from where he works. He offers her an easy smile.

"Only the best for our retreat."

"Uh huh. So what is our first team-building exercise anyway?"

"Trust falls on the beach. What do you think?"

Well, she's not a huge fan of it, but if it keeps the peace, then she'll go for it. She trusts him. She can let him catch her.

"Sure. And after that, how 'bout just a walk?"

Their day goes surprisingly well, trust falls included, and it bolsters both her spirit and her confidence in reaching out to him as they sit side by side on his patio eating burgers for dinner.

"Today was fun," she starts, swiping her napkin over her mouth. "I'm glad we did it. This whole weekend, actually. I'm glad we're here."

Castle smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looked like this in the car, too.

"Me too. But ah, hey. There's… something I need to tell you, too."

And just like that, the other shoe drops. The gentle warmth that's curled around her all day is replaced by ice, like he's just thrown her into a cold shower. She's heard that tone before, it's his bad news tone. His _"it's about your mother"_ tone.

Jesus, what has he done?

Swallowing hard, Beckett gets to her feet. She needs to look him in the eye, see his face.

"What, Castle?"

"It's… wait here. It's better if I show you." He gets to his feet, retreating inside before she can speak again.

Her plate clatters against the table, whatever appetite she had deserting her with his departure.

He comes back a moment later with a file and a flash drive. She doesn't need to even look at it to know she won't like where this is going.

"What is this?"

He shifts from foot to foot, looking down at the file in his hands and back at her.

"I was just trying to keep you safe," he begins, voice strained – maybe even pained – under the weight of his words.

"What? From what? Castle, what did you do?"

"There's a man, a friend of Montgomery's. He… he made a deal to protect you… as long as you didn't investigate."

Air leaves her lungs in a rush, nearly knocking her back into the table.

"Investigate? You mean my shooting? My mother's case?"

Castle nods, looking away as if to hide from her wrath only to snap back to her.

"He called me, told me I had to make you stop. I had to –"

"Are you a part of this?" she croaks, trying to force air past the vice around her chest. "Are you working _with_ them?"

Castle recoils. "Am I working with them? Kate, no. I'm trying to protect _you_."

"Protect me? By _lying_ to me about one of the most important things in my life? That's how you protect me? Do you have _any_ idea what this year has been like for me? Did you know some days it's a fight just to get out of bed and put one foot in front of the other? Or some mornings I spend an hour hiding in my bathroom, just wondering how the hell I'm still alive?" She laughs, but it's dry, humorless. "Well, now I know how I've managed that. You cut a deal for my life and conveniently forgot to tell me."

Scrubbing her hands over her face, she steps back. Away from him, away from the table. If she weren't stuck here without her own car, she would get away from the house completely.

"You're unbelievable, you know that? You make assumptions and rake me over the coals for weeks because your _ego_ was bruised, but you neglect to tell me I'm being used as a bargaining chip in some deal."

"It's to protect you."

"No, it's to keep me from finding the man who killed my _mother_. The man who put a bullet in my heart."

Folding her arms across her chest, she tries to fortify herself against him. Against the wounded, sad animal look he's giving her. He doesn't get to do that. He doesn't get to look at her like she's breaking _him_ when this is his big secret.

"Kate –"

"No, Castle. No. I have to go. I can't…" She spins, searching for the nearest exit, the nearest means of being somewhere that isn't _here_.

She hears him call for her as she escapes along the path to the beach, but he doesn't follow her.

* * *

Kate makes quick work of the distance to the beach in spite of the way anger licks at her vision. She's heard the term "seeing red" before, Castle has even been the cause of it for her a few times, but right now, everything is white.

How _could_ he? For weeks, she'd wondered and worried over every way she could've broken them to make him pull away the way he had. For months, she's been fighting to be better, more.

And he's been holding onto this.

Her balance falters as her feet sink into the loose sand. In daylight, it wouldn't be a problem, she would adjust and shuffle ahead, but in the inky darkness, she can't make her legs move, can't risk slipping or stepping hard into a divot and breaking something.

So she stops. She sinks, landing on her ass in a heap, the damp chill of the sand already seeping through her yoga pants. It's uncomfortable, but she can't and won't get up and go back to the house. Not yet.

Not while her side tugs and her chest is heavy, not while her throat is thick with anger, with grief.

How could he do this?

* * *

He's asleep on the patio chair when she returns, sitting practically where she left him two hours ago.

It's late, and she's beyond worn out, but she won't leave him out there all night. The last thing she needs is for him to end up with pneumonia because she'd walked past him and retreated to her room.

"Castle," she calls, barely recognizing her own voice. "Castle, get up. Go to bed."

His eyes fly open and he's on his feet probably before he realizes. The folder drops onto the seat behind him, flash drive clattering as it bounces off the cushion and onto the ground. "Beckett. Beckett, you're back," he breathes, his relief staggering.

"Yeah, Castle, I'm back. Left without my phone and I couldn't walk back to Manhattan at midnight." Rubbing her hand over her arm, she looks to the house. "I'm going to bed. You should, too."

"Wait. Wait, wait. Just… hear me out, please?"

Shaking her head, she sidesteps his outstretched hand. "Tomorrow. I can't do this again tonight."

He scrambles anyway, scooping the folder and the USB drive up and offering them to her.

"Okay, tomorrow then. But… here's everything I know. If you want to look at it tonight or in the morning, or whenever. This is it. I have another copy at the loft, but… you should have it, too. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I thought I was doing what was best – what would keep you safest. I just wanted to keep you safe. If I'd known – I never wanted you to – I didn't know what you were going through every day, I swear."

The apology is raw, unpolished and desperate, and Kate swallows hard, taking everything from his hands in lieu of answering. It's not an absolution and they both know it, but it's better than nothing.

"Night, Castle."

His eyes drop, but he just nods.

"Night, Kate."

She falls asleep reading what Castle has compiled about this friend of Montgomery's and how he relates to her case, how he relates to _cases_ they've worked over the last year, only to wake up half a dozen times with her heart in her throat and an ache between her breasts.

Breakfast is a somber affair. Once again, he's awake before her, but instead of moving with the practiced ease of yesterday, he practically stumbles through the kitchen.

Judging by his mussed hair and the dark circles under his eyes, he didn't sleep well either.

Somehow, she's the one to break the silence.

"I read the file."

Castle freezes, coffee halfway to his lips.

"Actually I read it twice. That's really everything? There's nothing you're holding back because you think I'm a loose cannon who's going to take off and get herself killed because of this case?"

"That's everything. And I don't, I don't think that. Things were just… you weren't ready –"

"You don't get to decide that for me, Castle!" She doesn't mean to yell. Doesn't mean to escalate things this way, but the words fly out of her mouth before she can stop them.

His mug lands on the counter, a muted thud against the marble. "You could barely hold your weapon without trembling, you went off on a fire inspector, Gates was looking for any reason she could find to sideline you, so what was I supposed to do?"

"You could've told me the truth. You could've been my partner instead of acting like the white knight you think I desperately need protecting me," she hisses.

"Yes, because telling you the truth or begging you to stand down has worked so well in the past. Asking you to consider the people who love you – me included – has really swayed you so thoroughly," he snaps, reaching over to kill the burner on the stove before their bacon is completely incinerated.

"Beckett, I just want to keep you alive any way I can," he continues before she can refute his claims, dumping the blackened lumps in the garbage. "Call it selfish, call it a betrayal, but keeping you alive, getting them off your tail, making it safe for you to go out each day, that was my only goal. And after those first few days, when everything seemed to settle, and you seemed to –"

"I know," she cuts him off, slumping on the stool. "You thought everything was approaching fine and that made it seem okay to keep up the status quo."

He nods, the fight draining out of him as well.

"It wasn't, I know."

"No, it wasn't."

She reaches for his hand anyway, coughing on a watery laugh when he apparently decides to say screw the handholding and comes swinging around the counter to wrap her into a tight hug.

Gripping his back, she sucks in a breath. For probably the first time in almost twelve hours, her lungs fill completely.

Castle echoes the breath, humming against her hair. His palm brushes her back of her neck, keeping her close.

"I burned the bacon," he mumbles into her temple.

Laughter springs from her lips, muffled against his t-shirt. "I can smell that."

She can also smell him; the floral hints of his detergent, the spring freshness of his soap, even a whiff of sharp sweat from their fight.

"Sorry. I'm… I'm sorry."

"Me too. I'm sorry, too. Though not for ruining the bacon, that one's on you."

He chuckles, nodding in concession. His arms tighten around her once more.

Her hand slips up his back, feeling the tension release from his muscles. "So does this fall under a sharing exercise or a conflict resolution one?"

"Somewhere in between, I'd guess."

"Interesting," she hums, squeezing his neck. "Are we… gonna be okay?"

Castle nods. "We're gonna be okay, Beckett. And I have just the way."

The sigh she releases when he pulls away is involuntary, but it makes him grin anyway.

"What's that?"

He cracks his knuckles. "First, we're going to make breakfast together – teamwork – and then we're going to do another sharing exercise. I want you to think of thirty seconds in your life that you'd consider the highlight. It can be anything. Any time. Solo or with others. After breakfast we'll share."

"I don't know, Castle, what if one of my highlights is too much for you to handle?"

He fixes her with a sly look, his eyes dark and promising. "Doubtful. Because I already know what yours will be."

Her cheeks lift with the return of their familiar back and forth, teasing and promising once more.

"Oh yeah? You sure about that, Castle?"

"I am," he says, as if it's a foregone conclusion that he's right. He moves to the fridge, gathering new ingredients for breakfast, ignoring her narrowed eyes and questioning look.

"Why's that?"

He deposits the cheese on the counter, cupping her face between his hands. "Because your highlight will be this."

His lips slide over hers, breathing hope into her skin, pulling a hum from her throat, and generally making her toes curl against the tile floor.

"How's that?" he rasps a moment later, licking his lips. Lifting a hand to his chest, she presses closer, delighting in his mewl, in the way his fingers stutter against her cheeks.

"Well," she hums, kissing him again. "It's no tower of furniture, but it'll do."

(Her highlight comes a few minutes later, when he relieves her of her shirt and lifts her against the counter, whispering he loves her into her chest, but she gives him this one anyway.)

* * *

_A/N_ : _I couldn't help but steal the "Building a Tower of Furniture" reference from X-Files._


End file.
